


Birthday Blues

by consult_this_prick



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Happy Ending, M/M, bit of angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-15
Updated: 2020-09-15
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:28:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,597
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26471131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/consult_this_prick/pseuds/consult_this_prick
Summary: Mycroft forgets Greg's birthday.
Relationships: Mycroft Holmes/Greg Lestrade
Comments: 2
Kudos: 86





	Birthday Blues

The yard was quiet as the detective inspector sat at his desk. Donavan had just left, being the last one and only one to finish up the heavy load of paperwork to help out her boss, but Greg still had plenty left to do. 

His mobile started ringing and he looked at the caller id, thinking for a second before picking up and answering it. “Hello?”

“Gregory,” Mycroft's voice said, “will you be coming by this evening?” 

“Ah, no. Lots of paperwork to try and finish.” 

“How about tomorrow?” 

“I’m not sure, Mycroft.” 

“Alright then. Have a good night. Your company will be missed.” Mycroft said, expecting Greg to respond with one of his bedroom jokes that Mycroft found pleasing to hear, but instead, he got a disconnected call. 

Greg set his phone down and leaned back in his chair, looking at the birthday cards on his desk from the people in the yard, even one from John and Sherlock, but there wasn’t a single one from his boyfriend. He didn’t want to be upset that Mycroft forgot his birthday, they haven’t even been together a year, but Mycroft knows everything about Greg. Everything except his birthday. Even his assistant wished him a happy birthday.

It was late when Greg returned to his shithole of a flat. He would much rather spend the night at Mycroft’s under the imported silk sheets, nuzzled into the monogrammed Derek Rose pajamas of his lover. Instead, Greg got his lumpy old mattress with sheets he couldn’t recall the last time he washed and a pillow to mimic the feeling of not being lonely. 

In the morning, Greg returned to the Yard, tired and grumpy, not being able to sleep as well as he wanted. He made it to his office, dropping his things off before going to the break room to make himself a cup of coffee. When he returned to his office, Mycroft was sitting in a chair across from his desk. Greg shut the door, moving to take his seat behind his desk. 

“You’re upset with me,” Mycroft spoke. 

Greg didn’t look at him, instead, he took a swig of his coffee and turned on his desktop. 

“I don’t know why.” 

Greg looked at Mycroft. “Really?” 

Mycroft gave a nod. 

“You haven’t got a clue why I would be upset with you?” 

“No.” 

Greg chuckled, typing in his password into the login screen. 

“It’s funny to you?” 

“You’re the smartest person I know and you can’t figure out why your boyfriend would be upset with you?” 

“I loathe repeating myself.” 

Greg got up, opening his office door. “Call me when you figure it out.” 

Mycroft stood, looking hurt and confused. “Have a good day, Gregory,” he said before leaving the office of the DI. 

Greg closed his door again, throwing himself into his chair, looking at the birthday cards that still sat on his desk, noticeable under the few papers that covered them. 

Around noon was when Greg was finally bothered by someone. Donavan had knocked at the door, poking her head into his office, “A few of us are going out for lunch. Care to join?” 

Greg shook his head. “I’m good, thanks,” he gave her a sad smile. 

“He still hasn’t remembered, has he?” 

Greg shook his head again. 

“I’m sorry, boss. Anything I can do?” 

“It’s alright, Donavan. Go enjoy lunch, we have a debriefing session when you all get back.” 

“Copy that, sir.” Donavan backed herself out of the office, closing the door with a soft click behind herself. 

The day was coming to an end and Greg still hasn’t heard a word from Mycroft. He packed up his things and left earlier than he usually did, the eyes of all the detectives on him as he walked to the elevator. 

Greg rang the doorbell, the large chestnut door instantly being opened, Anthea greeting him. 

“Greg, what a surprise.” 

“Is he in?” 

She nodded, stepping to the side and letting the detective inspector inside. “I haven’t said anything to him. He’s still baffled.”

Greg gave a small grunt as he made his way to the in-home office of Mycroft, opening the door without a knock. “You’re a cock, you know that?” 

Mycroft set his pen down, looking at his enraged boyfriend. “Sorry?” 

“You really don’t know why I’m upset with you?” 

Mycroft shook his head. 

“It was my bloody birthday yesterday!” 

“Gregory, I’m sorry. I-“ 

“I waited the whole day to hear something from you, you’re my boyfriend for fucks sake. Your brother remembered, even Anthea texted me!” Greg shouted. “I was hoping that you would know that it was my birthday and you would do a grand gesture like I did on your birthday, but I got nothing.” 

“I really am sorry, Gregory. I’ve been busy.” 

Greg scoffed, “You are unbelievable.” he turned for the door, stopping for a moment. “I really thought you would remember. I thought you would be better than this, but it’s just in the Holmes blood, isn’t it? Caring is a chemical defect, that kind of bullshit.” Greg turned to Mycroft who looked hurt in more ways than one. “I used to hate my birthday, it brought sour memories back. I told myself that this year would be different, that starting from this year it’ll be happy memories, but I was wrong. My birthday is ruined. Thank you, Mycroft.” Greg turned back around, leaving the office and the home of his lover. His ex-lover, whatever the hell Mycroft was to him now, he wasn’t really sure, all he knew was that he was hurt about it. 

The oven beeped and Greg sighed, turning off the timer and grabbing an oven mitt to take out the pizza he picked up on his way home. He set it on the stovetop and felt a burst of anger run through his body. The pizza was practically charcoal. He threw the oven mitt down, deciding to just go hungry instead of trying something else. 

He sat down on his sofa, the telly playing some kind of nonsense show, thinking about the last birthday he actually celebrated. His kids had come over with presents and a cupcake they picked up on the way, their mother thought they were at practice after school, but once she found out she came over in a fit of rage, taking the kids and yelling at Greg, before leaving. He remembered the cupcake that had a candle in it that his daughter was about to light as she and her brother sang happy birthday before their mother started pounding on the door. Once they were gone, he lit the cupcake and made the wish to spend a birthday with them again, but it never happened. His ex-wife had moved to Glasgow, taking the kids with her, not letting either of them speak to him. 

Greg sighed, rubbing his eyes as the birthdays of his childhood came back. They were never pleasant. His mother tried to make them the best she could, but it was always ruined by his drunk father. Ever since he was little, his birthdays were shit. He hoped that with Mycroft that they would be different, that he would take the day off and spend it with him, take him to a fancy dinner and treat him to anything he wanted. Then he realized he never got anything he wanted. 

There was a knock at the door and Greg sighed, ignoring it. He just wanted to sulk in his depressing birthday memories and be left alone to do it. The knocks continued and Greg got up, opening the door to see Mycroft standing at his door with a cake and a small box wrapped with a small bow. 

“I’m sorry I forgot your birthday. I should have known, even if I have been busy. You’re right, I thought caring and love was a chemical defect, but then I met you. You showed me how to love and care for someone in ways I never imagined I could.” Mycroft sighed, raising his chin. Even in a moment like this, he didn’t want to seem like he wasn’t the tough man he is. “I don’t want to lose you, Gregory. Please forgive me.” 

“What flavor is the cake?” 

“Carrot with cream cheese frosting.” 

Greg stepped aside, letting Mycroft into his flat. “And the present?” 

Mycroft handed the small box to Greg, setting the cake down on the counter. He watched Greg open it, confused at it. “It’s a key. To my house,” Mycroft spoke. 

“What does that mean?” 

“I would enjoy it greatly if you would move in with me. Seeing your current living situation is quite the shit show,” Mycroft said in disgust as he looked around Greg’s flat. 

Greg chuckled, smiling. He grabbed the waistcoat of Mycroft, pulling him close and into a kiss. “I forgive you.”

Mycroft smiled, “Do you accept my offer?” 

“Of course. I’ve been dying to get out of here.” 

“Then shall we go? I have a few more presents waiting for you at home.” 

“Oh?” Greg raised a brow. 

“Yes. Now there’s a car waiting for us.” Mycroft picked up the cake again, noticing the black circle sitting on the stove. “What is that?”

“My dinner.” 

Mycroft sighed, “Good Lord. What did you do to it?” 

“Doesn’t matter anymore. I have cake and you to fill me up.” 

Mycroft smiled, watching Greg open the door. 

They spent the night together, Greg deciding that from now on his birthdays will be happy and memorable and that the old ones didn’t matter anymore.


End file.
